


Paradox

by Kamaxi, Windysprite (Kamaxi)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaxi/pseuds/Kamaxi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaxi/pseuds/Windysprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two things that Rose Lalonde is sure of beyond the shadow of a doubt: That Dave Strider is her brother, and that she slept with him when they were in a doomed timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's in a Dream?

Rose wasn’t lying when she said that she didn’t really remember what had happened in that doomed alternate timeline she and Dave had been trapped in. Unlike Dave, who had come back to the alpha timeline as Davesprite, her alternate self had been destroyed when the timeline shift had taken place. Either that or her poor, older, alternate self was still trapped there all alone. For her own piece of mind, the young girl liked to think that the other her had been killed. No one should have to live on a hostile foreign planet with the knowledge that they were the only living being in the entire universe—it was just wrong.

Either way, Dave had come to this timeline as his future self, but she had not. It was almost like that series of events had never happened, and although they technically hadn’t, in a way they actually had. Because Davesprite was here. And also because both she and Dave had started having dreams about the events that had taken place, back when they were the only two still alive and all hope had been lost.

At first the experience had been exciting—a chance for Rose to analyze her future self’s reactions to her unconventional environment, as well as all the amazing new equipment and powers she’d had. It was even interesting when she’d had dreams about interactions with Dave. Now that she knew the coolkid was her brother, Rose had sparked a new interest in getting to know her friend as more than a passing acquaintance. They were friends…but not really. Past that, the blond girl knew next to nothing about him, and before all the Sburb nonsense, she’d been fine with that. It was just their dynamic. But now that they were siblings…or something close to that, well, Rose figured it would be worth getting to know him a bit better if only to attempt (and probably fail) to see where their similarities tied in.

So dreams of endless hours with beta-timeline Dave (as she was now christening him), killing imps for massive amounts of grist, alchemizing random useless things, and sitting together as the sun set over TLOHAC, talking about everything and nothing—all of those had been fine. She was even intrigued by dreams of the insufferable boy cooling his ‘awesome jets’ long enough to comfort her from the utter despair she remembered feeling. Rose had been determined to keep an open mind about everything—reminding herself at every turn that none of that had actually happened to her personally, and so she should just take it all in stride as a learning experience.

But she drew the line when she’d had that dream where the boy who also happens to be her brother leaned in to kiss her, and her alternate self gave in and let him.

Rose no longer wanted these dreams. It had BAD IDEA written all over it. Sure, she’d had her fun up till now spite-flirting with the cool guy who thought he was god’s gift to everyone, perhaps even god himself. The young witch had thoroughly relished provoking him in an attempt to make him lose his cool, and deflecting the barbs he’d sent her way. It was their little cat and mouse game that neither of them ever actually won, but that they both enjoyed. And that one dream had shattered all of that in an instant. After which there were, of course, more.

Dave was her brother. And while Rose was sure the other remaining human populace (all of two people) wouldn’t honestly give two shits either way, there was something just morally wrong about having dreams (memories?) where her older self made out with her brother. Even if she’d had no idea that they were related at the time.

So she’d done the Rose thing and confronted him about it, whereupon she was mortified to realize that he had been having those dreams as well. Of course, he’d been nonchalant and evasive about the whole thing—yet another sign that his coolkid façade was merely a front for his raging insecurity—and Rose herself had played her mortification down well, she thought.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Strider, I need to speak with you,” She’d called him out one day when he was in the middle of eating a bowl of the shitty cereal they’d managed to alchemize. It was in the dining area—which was actually just another drab, grey room with tables and chairs that was located in the general area between everyone’s private rooms. Despite being just as aesthetically unpleasing as the rest of the asteroid facility they were on, it was regarded by the mass consensus to be the most cheerful room in this gods-be-damned place. At any given time, one could expect to see others using the room as a hangout, both troll and human alike. Thus, Rose had considered it a safe bet to check there first when she had finally gathered the courage to confront her brother.

He had a spoonful of the grainy cereal in midair when she’d called out to him, and instead of finishing the motion and taking a bite, Dave opted to leave his arm hanging in midair. For dramatic effect, the blond girl was sure. He looked over his sunglasses at her, “Well, well…” he drawled, “Never thought I’d see the day that Lalonde was coming to her big bro for help. What can I do for ya, li’l sis?” He'd recently taken to calling her by that moniker, for the pure fact that he knew it annoyed the shit out of her.

Her violet eyes narrowed, “I need you.” To her credit, she hadn’t realized just exactly how that statement would be taken until after it had left her mouth, “I need to speak with you,” she amended.

The spoonful of cereal was lowered back into the bowl, and Dave stood up, drawing the attention of the room’s other inhabitants. Those that hadn’t already been watching with riveted eyes, that is. Terezi, who had been seated directly next to her brother, and whose presence Rose had somehow overlooked, was grinning that psychotic grin at her, running her abnormally-long tongue over her razor sharp teeth in mirth. The witch girl chose to ignore the troll—she was like a troll version of Dave, except ten times more crazy, and Rose had enough to deal with when she had only one coolkid to worry about.

“Oh, don’t raise an ironic eyebrow at me!” she sighed, exasperated, “And for the record, I’ll have you know that it is taking every modicum of my willpower right now not to explain to you the true meaning of the word ‘ironic’. I can see you are still having difficulty with the concept. Alas, while that would undoubtedly be an interesting and quite possibly colorful conversation, in the end it would be fruitless, and therefore I am restraining myself. I try not to reiterate needlessly.”

The ironic eyebrow remained raised, and she could practically feel the eye roll from across the room, “Yeah, because that’s exactly what you were doing right there. Restraint was all over that sentence. You gotta tell me how you suck air through that insanity, though—that shit was real, Rose! A lesser man would’ve choked. You do me proud.” Dave was not surprised at all when Rose merely heaved a deep sigh.

“As charming as this conversation is, we have an audience, and I genuinely have something I need to speak with you in private about. So if you don’t mind…” She gestured to the doorway, which was (to no one’s surprise) yet another shade of dark grey. Whoever had decorated this place must have had the worst sense of style in both universes—even what the trolls had told her about their hives sounded more aesthetically pleasing. There was nothing creative here. Nothing.

“If that’s how you want it, sis, all you need to do is ask. I know I’m just sexy crazy irresistible and if you need me that badly…well.” And even though he insisted on being obnoxious while doing so, the coolkid actually made for the hallway like Rose had wanted him to. And for that she was grateful. This was going to be awkward enough without Dave deciding he needed to be difficult.

When she was sure they were far enough away from the crowded room that they couldn’t be overheard, Rose turned to face him—she hoped that just throwing it out there would make this conversation less painfully awkward, though she doubted it. “I’ve been having dreams about us,” she stated, matter-of-factly. 

Dave went completely still for a few moments, and for a moment, Rose was worried that he had taken her a little too seriously, with the way his whole body seemed to tense up and she could almost sense his pulse racing a mile a minute. Not for the first time, she wished desperately that she could see through his damned sunglasses. But after a few seconds he relaxed and chucked her a lazy grin.

“Well, shit, Rose. Every girl has them, no need to feel special ‘cause you’re my sister and all. I mean, I’m flattered, but it’s not like we didn’t all see this coming a mile a minute. You’ve been running that train since Junior High.”

“What?” The blonde was flabbergasted and more than a little irritated at the nonsense that seemed to be spewing out of her brother’s mouth. Was this how he felt about her when she went on one of her spiels? If so, she could see why he hated it so much. “What in all hells are you talking about?”

Dave’s smirk only seemed to grow wider at her ire, “I’m talking about your nocturnal prowling for the master cat, your major macking on yours truly while mattress-surfing,” Rose still had a puzzled scowl on her face, “Sexy dreams, you and me,” he clarified, “And like I said, I’m flattered, but—” 

The young woman heaved a heavy sigh. It seemed like this day was just full of sighs and strife—Strider-style. “My dreams are about the other timeline, Dave. I want to know if you’re having them too, or if it’s just me… I want—no—I have to know if these are just dreams or if they’re memories. The memories of that other Rose.” Her tone was dead-serious, because she was dead-serious. Rose wanted Dave to know that she was interested in actually talking, and not just having one of their mock-fights. This method had always seemed to work in her dreams of the alternate timeline, and if it worked now that was as good as telling her that he was having the crazy dreams too and that she wasn’t insane.

When he responded, his voice was off by half a pitch. Rose supposed her too-cool brother thought that she wouldn’t catch that. “What? You mean those crazy adventures in roasting major imp ass and who-can-alchemize-the-weirdest-shit? Yeah, I have those. Weird stuff, that. Wonder if they’re memories.” Dave’s voice caught ever so slightly on that last bit, “Probably not, right? I mean—that’d be seriously freak city right there. And not in the ironic way.”

“Disregarding how that situation is possibly the farthest thing from ironic as possible, I would have to say… I have no idea…” This was awkward, this was awkward, this was soooo awkward, “...whether these happenings are indeed things that took place in an alternate timeline…” Rose felt her throat go dry, “Or not,” she finished lamely. In fact, she could quite possibly reason that that sentence was the least eloquent thing that had exited her mouth since she had entered this damned game. It made her feel foolish.

Luckily her brother seemed too mixed up himself to notice, "Yeah I don't know. Been having them for a few months now--since I turned sixteen." Dave's fingers reached up to adjust the sunglasses on his face in a fluid way that he no doubt thought was cool, "At first I thought they were just...ah...normal dreams, but who would dream of being forced into a small room with only you for company?"

"Did you just allude to what I think you alluded to?"

"Absolutely no idea what you're talkin' about Rosie." The nonchalance that he exuded as he said this pissed Rose off, and she focused a large part of her energy into not allowing an argument to happen. Too much was at stake for her to be wasting time snarking at the obnoxious coolkid.

There were a few things he'd mentioned that had actually meant something, however. Dave had also been having the memory-dreams, and he had been having them since he turned sixteen--that was around the same time that she'd started seeing them. 

"We've been having them for the same amount of time," the blonde mused, "I wonder if that means anything. I know that our alternate selves were around our age when their timeline ended. Beta-Rose disappeared and Beta-Dave came here to be Davesprite..." Rose's violet eyes lit up in silent epiphany. But before she could voice the question that was lodged in her throat, Dave cut her off.

"He's gone," he stated abruptly.

Rose was baffled, "Gone?" she queried, "What do you mean, gone? He's your sprite-guide, one of the only useful things in this entire goddamn game, and he's just gone?"

“Yeah, he took off. Said he had shit to do, or some bullshit answer like that.”

Was sighing going to be the only thing Rose did tonight? Had she not sighed enough for a lifetime in the last few hours? This was getting ridiculous. “I’m not going to lie and say that Davesprite’s disappearance isn’t worrying me, but there are larger, and potentially more life-altering, fish to fry.” She kind of hoped that throwing out that word bait would get her brother to catch on to her meaning, but if he had any idea what she was referring to, he refused to show it. 

There was cold sweat threatening to trickle down the witch girl’s spine. Was she the only one with the disturbing parts of the dreams? Had Dave somehow managed to avoid having one of the many dream-memories where their counterparts were engaged in more-than-familial expressions of affection? Or was all of that just in her head—made up by some twisted part of her psyche that secretly wanted her brother. That was almost worse than if it had actually happened.

What was going on? Enough of this farce, she had to know.

Rose snapped, stepping forward until she had Dave pushed up against the cold, grey wall, her hair practically curling around her face in anger. A pointed finger jabbed him in the clavicle, “You are going to answer me now David Strider, and you are going to do it honestly and in a straightforward manner. Are you having subconscious predilections towards a relationship with myself that is less than seemly?”

He was surprisingly unaffected, instead taking the opportunity to lean in towards her even more, breath curling around her sneering face, “See, sis,” he drawled, emphasizing the last part with exaggerated air quotes, “The thing is—how am I supposed to give you a straight answer when I have no idea what you’re talkin' about?” If the sound of Rose’s teeth grinding together got any louder, she was sure she’d be needing dentures sooner than biologically expected.

“You know what I’m referring to. I know you know. The sooner we get it out into the open, the sooner we can discredit any possibility of this…ahem, “situation”…as having any merit. While dreams are generally considered to be conduits for subconscious desires, I am quite certain that there are no grounds for that conclusion in this case.” She moved away from where she’d had him pushed up against the wall and Dave took the opportunity to brush imaginary dust off of the lapel of his suit. Why was he wearing that godforsaken thing anyway? Did he think that they were all having a party here on this grey blob of an asteroid instead of hurtling indefinitely into the unknown?

“Yeah, underneath all that psychobabble shit I’m pretty sure there was a point that I agree with. Thoughts of you and me together in any capacity make me feel violently ill, nonwithstanding whatever cesstastic images your warped harpy brain could come up with under those sick conditions. And not the good kind of sick.”

“I believe the phrase you meant to refer to was ‘thoughts of you and I’. And I assure you that whatever visuals I may have been subjected to pertaining to the two of us were entirely involuntary. I harbor no desire to enter into an incestuous relationship.”

And, as if a bomb had been dropped on them out of the blue, time seemed to stop. In fact, it was entirely possible that time did stop—even if just for a moment. Dave felt he couldn’t be held responsible for temporal consistency when the point that they’d just been dancing around was blurted out in such a blunt manner. Rose herself seemed to be surprised that she’d just come out and said it the way she had, but now that the jig was up, so to speak, the atmosphere had increased in discomfort by about three-hundred percent.

“So it’s true then?” Rose attempted to ask casually, but instead she sounded as if she were struggling to breathe, “These are more than dreams?”

Dave spent approximately forty seconds staring at Rose's hands, which were gripping each other in front of her anxiously. He could lie. He could drag this out a bit more, pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about, pretend that the visions that had plagued them both were just the workings of overactive imaginations, but she would know he was lying. Her fingers laced together elegantly, appropriate-length nails casting a dull shine and the coolkid wondered how he could even see that in the dim hallway and behind his aviator shades.

“Yeah. They’re more than dreams.”

He was surprised to find that he was disappointed when her only reaction was a bland look and a breathy, “Okay.”

“Well…this is pretty awkward…”

“That’s the understatement of the century. Thank you for your truly useful input at this crucial point in our lives. Whatever would I have done without you?” Her normally calm voice was strained, and she sounded a bit hysterical, but all things considered the young girl was reacting rather well.

Dave wasn’t exactly himself either, but you could hardly tell with the sunglasses. A slight alter in demeanor, the subtle shift of nervousness—Rose knew the signs all too well. “What do you want me to say?” he muttered more than spoke, as if afraid that someone would overhear their conversation even though they were the only ones in the hallway.

“You’re my brother!” It hits both of them, and the silence revealed the uneasiness that permeated in the air around them.

“Yeah. I guess I am. I mean, if you count ecto-sibs as more of a thing than just utter nonsense. Which, I don't.”

“I…just…” she took a deep breath in an attempt to get her thoughts straight, “I can’t believe we let this happen. What were we thinking? It was such a horrible idea in the first place, and why did I let you talk me into it anyways? ‘Oh, Rose, what the hell does it matter? Rose, stop being such a flippin’ prude!’ Well, brother dearest? Is this what you wanted?” She knew it wasn't. She knew, somewhere in the rational part of her brain that had decided to exeunt from all this chaos, that Dave had never intended for any of this shit to happen, it just had. It was just their sheer dumb luck—their bad karma or whatnot. If Rose could go back and buy girl-scout cookies and help little old ladies across the street, she would. Anything to keep this from happening. But it was all that time travel shit that had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

Dave just glanced away from her in a nonchalant way, but she’s sure that it’s because he can’t stand to look at her. “It’s not like we even knew we were related back then. Seriously, just chill. Nobody’s gonna know but you and me, and you can bet I’ll be keeping a lid on this so tight that even Karkat’s ass couldn’t rival it, so don’t flip your shit over nothing.”

Rose didnt know what to feel. She was standing in a dark grey hallway, in a dark grey building, on a dark grey asteroid in the middle of literally fucking nowhere, having a conversation she never thought she’d have with the last person she could imagine having it with. And yeah, she was flipping her shit, just a little. 

But Dave’s (her brother’s?) surprisingly rational argument gets through to her, and Rose can see the reality beyond the big clusterfuck of ‘what the hell?’ that has become her life. And although her extensive research into the realm of human psychology told her that secrets like this rarely stay secrets, she allowed herself to accept that keeping it covert would really be the best option. Who would find out anyway, really? John and Jade were too naïve and oblivious to get it, and the trolls didn’t understand enough about human dynamics to know when something was up. This really wasn’t that big of a deal, she told herself.

Not to mention, there had to be some Freudian explanation for their dalliance. Some sort of instinctual recognition of similar features, perhaps. Something completely natural and out of their control—like the Oedipus Complex. So everything was fine. It couldn’t be helped. The past was in the past…right?

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. We’ll just keep it quiet. It’s not like anything happened in this timeline anyway. It was a totally different time and place. Really no need to dredge it all back up to the surface when it never really happened.” At some point during this, Dave had turned back to face her again. The blacks of his sunglasses burned into her with the intensity of his gaze, “I don’t remember it all that much to begin with,” She stated flippantly.

“That’s good,” he replied, “So we’re cool, then?”

Rose pursed her lips in distaste, “We’re on the same page. But I don’t quite think that’s what you mean by ‘cool’.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

And then he was gone, as quick as he came, slinking down the hallway with that too-cool gait that made all of Rose’s hackles raise in a combination of immense irritation and begrudged attraction. Dave Strider sure was a piece of work.


	2. Much Ado About Grist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alternate! Rose and Dave hunt down an imp to get a rare form of grist for no apparent reason, and Kanaya is a true friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a somewhat-revamped, repost of my fic of the same name on FF. I really enjoy writing it, so I hope it will turn out to your satisfaction. :)
> 
> On an unrelated note: Happy Birthday to me! On the 14th, I am officially a year older. :D

Rose could admit that her brother was an incredibly attractive person. He hadn’t been completely off-base when he had accused her of gunning for him in her pre-pubescent years—it wasn’t a period in her life that she was particularly proud of, but the witch girl was far from denying it. It was more than just his looks that had pulled at her like gravitas, though. (Athough if Rose was being honest, Dave was the epitome of a good looking male. She briefly wondered if, as his somewhat-twin, that observation could be seen as vain)

Dave accused her of attempting to psychoanalyze everything since the first time they chatted online. He wasn’t exactly wrong about that either, and all these concessions of the obnoxious coolkid’s correct observations were giving Rose the shivers. The point was that she was not a girl who craved a lapdog for a companion—romantic or otherwise. 

Conversations with people unwilling to argue were boring, and no matter how much she cared for and appreciated John and Jade, talking to them never gave her as much of a thrill as a good row with Dave Strider. He was an entity all on his own.

No one had been willing to fend off her analyses with as much rancor and acerbic wit as he had. Knowing now that they were related made the whole situation make a lot more sense—two people cut from the same cloth, they were. It was an intellectual connection that Rose had craved in her youth that had irrationally blossomed into a slight crush. But all of those thoughts had been long gone by the time they’d actually met, in SBURB. The blonde still enjoyed her conversations with him—immensely so. But she had found another connection in Kanaya, the intelligent and highly-fashionable troll girl, and found herself almost curiously overt to the possibility of exploring a quadrant with her in the future. So it wasn’t as if Rose had been secretly pining away for her brother for years, nothing of the sort.

She just considered herself intelligent enough to admit when she was attracted to someone or something. 

Humans had a tendency to categorize attraction as purely sexual, but Rose would list her affinity for Dave as something instinctual—they were extremely similar after all. The witch girl had found out they were siblings and suddenly everything had made a lot more sense. She’d realized that what she felt for Dave was more platonic interest than not, and that fit well with the whole “he’s your brother, Rose,” thing.

But what would have happened if she hadn’t known about their relation? It wasn’t as if their being siblings was the only reason Rose chose not to go down the undoubtedly long and winding road that was a relationship with the Knight of Time. He was a notoriously complicated individual, on top of his numerous attempts to outdo himself for the position as the most obnoxious person she’d ever met. On top of that, his too-cool façade was something that just screamed ‘inferiority complex’, and Rose had decidedly had enough of dealing with immature men. The effort that would have to be put into his rehabilitation would be exhausting. 

No, there had been plenty of reasons for not pursuing that sort of relationship with the man she’d later found to be her brother, and the blonde girl wasn’t sure if the conditions of the Beta timeline would have been enough to persuade her otherwise. The little bits that Rose had gathered from her dream-memories lead her to believe that there had been some sort of catalyst that—under the extreme conditions that had followed—had come to fruition in the form of a romantic relationship. 

This emotional conundrum that Rose had been musing on for days was beginning to take a toll on her composure. Nothing made for a pounding migraine like irrational actions and emotions—even if they had been in another timeline. Each heavy throb of the girl’s pulse seemed to jackhammer into her skull, and she was sure she’d been half-heartedly suppressing a wince all day. It was three days since she and her infernally irritating brother had spoken on the subject of their shared dreams, and Rose was no closer to understanding how she’d ended up in this situation than when she’d started.

Part of her wished the dreams would just go away so she could continue to move on with her life here and now—the emotions and feelings of a Rose that hadn’t had to deal with being one of the last people of their group still alive. Everything would be so much easier that way. Less interesting, yes. But much easier.

Her entrance into the dining hall was greeted with a few casual glances, murmurs of salutation and one caustic glare from the direction of Vriska Serket. Rose supposed the glare was the troll girl’s way of showing her displeasure with Rose’s predictions regarding her attempt at pale romance with John. The oblivious kid was never going to understand the quadrant system, and no matter how badly Vriska wanted him as her morail, he would never get it. It was a cultural thing. But the troll affectionately coined ‘spiderbitch’ clearly did not appreciate Rose’s attempts to help her accept reality. Oh well, she supposed; one could not expect to get through to everyone.

So the witch girl went largely unheralded as she glided into the room, making her way to the table that Kanaya sat reading peacefully at, attempting to hide the wince she was sure made her look possessed. Expecting a better greeting now that she was in proper company, Rose was not disappointed.

“Rose!” Her grey-skinned friend exclaimed, tearing her attention from the book on her lap, “How are you this morning? It has been some time since I have seen you for more than just a few minutes.” There was a small plate of uneaten crackers in front of her.

How Kanaya managed to make a simple statement sound like a concerned question, Rose wasn’t sure, but the comforting familiarity of the troll’s presence did loads to soothe the blond girl’s troubled thoughts. “Yes, I’ve been a bit preoccupied as of late. I do apologize for that. There are a few things on my mind that have been weighing heavily on me.” Rose took a seat across from Kanaya and allowed herself to take in the troll’s sophisticated wardrobe. None of the others of her species seemed interested in that sort of thing, but the human could appreciate the effort her companion put into looking nice.

Dark eyebrows knitted on a pale grey face in an expression of concern, “Is there anything I can do? Would speaking with me help you to sort through your thoughts? I would be willing to make myself available to you if that were the case.”

“That’s sweet, Kanaya, really,” Rose smiled softly, “I appreciate the thought. But I’m afraid that this subject is not one that I feel will benefit from being spread out in the open. Quite the opposite, actually.” A sardonic laugh later, and Kanaya’s concern was only growing.

She pushed the plate with the salted crackers (another of the limited food items they could alchemize) towards Rose, “I do not wish to pressure you, Rose, but I know from experience that attempting to ignore things that are on your mind will only make you less able to move on.” The troll’s jade-tinted eyes watched the witch girl take a tentative bite out of one of the bland crackers, “I will continue to be available to you, should you change your mind.”

Rose felt a warm rush of gratitude towards her companion. There was something calming and reassuring about the other girl. Just knowing that she always had someone she could talk to made Rose feel a lot better about her unsettled thoughts. Her mood now sufficiently raised, she decided that she couldn’t resist teasing Kanaya. The blonde leaned over the table towards the jade-blood, a playful smile on her face, “It sounds like you are subjecting me to some pale advances, Kanaya. And I was so sure that you were interested in another quadrant entirely…”

The dark green flush on the troll’s face was worth the groans and retching noises that came from the others. Jeering, catcalling and disgusted remarks echoed in the background, but Rose paid no mind, opting instead to investigate the hot sensation that prickled the back of her neck. The only possible source she could see was Dave, who was seated next to Terezi and Sollux on the lumpy couch across the room. It was hard to tell, but his glasses seemed to be pointed right at her, however she couldn’t for the life of her think of a reason for her generally unaffected brother to gaze at her intently, so she brushed it off as coincidence.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

It was hot. Steam rose all around her, but it was less like water vapor and more like a fine red mist, obscuring her vision and permeating the air with a heavy metallic scent.  
“This is such a waste of time,” Rose muttered, and although it was odd for her to be making a complaint, the young blonde couldn’t find it in herself to be ashamed. She could feel the slick metal through her thick-soled boots. “We’re going to get ourselves killed.” 

They were crouched in a small cranny of one of the skeletal metal structures that littered TLOHAC’s surface, gazing intently at a huge, black imp that was storming restlessly about. Rose had her arms crossed against her velvet-clad chest as she scowled disdainfully at Dave who was crouched down a bit ahead of her, clearly taking this stalking thing more seriously than she was. Desperately, the witch-girl wished that she’d worn anything else—blazing lava, iron-hot metal and dark velvet did not mesh together well. There was only so much a girl could sacrifice in the name of fashion.

“If you would shut your trap for more than a few moments, you would realize that I have a master plan. I always have a plan. The man with the plan, that’s me.” His words were directed at her, but the coolkid remained as he was, bent down with eyes trained on the rampaging carapace.

Rose sighed, “And what, pray tell, would this ‘Master Plan’ entail? Dare I even ask?”

“No you daren’t,” he replied glibly, “Just stay here and do your freaky magic wand thing—you know? Send your blackened tentacles of doom to rape the enemy’s smarmy behind, or whatever sadistic wizardry comes outta your hell sticks. And watch my back.”

“Yes, I will watch it get itself killed,” she couldn’t help but mutter darkly. She hated when Dave’s bravado sent both of them into overly-dangerous situations. If there was no way of avoiding the danger, Rose was all for it. Saving their lives by kicking ass and taking names? That was all kinds of okay. It was the senseless thrill-seeking the Knight of Time was so fond of that the blonde girl disliked.

Dave made a low noise of contemplation in his throat, only Rose knew better than to think he was actually putting any deep thought into his actions. “If my body parts suddenly spouted the badass ability to motion themselves around, the last thing they would do is get themselves killed. Win several dancing contests? Hell yeah. Rival the awesome fucking ninja power of both Chuck Norris and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle? Absolutely. That shit is so real it’s about to get its ass kicked all over the landscape. Just like that asshole over there.” He motions to the figure that still captures his attention. Rose isn’t really sure why they’re hunting him down in the first place.

Like all other times that the blonde girl attempts to reason with her companion, she finds her fingers gravitating to her temples to try and soothe the frustration away. “David,” she uses his whole name to try and goad him into answering her seriously, “Why are we here, in this tiny crevice in the ruins of a metal skyscraper, stalking this hulking carapace-creature? And do not give me this nonsense about needing the grist because we both know that after three years of collecting we have more than enough to alchemize this entire planet three times over.”

“Shalque.”

Deadpan is too moderate a word to describe the look on Rose’s face at that response. When she had placated her ire enough to speak, her tone was sardonically dry, “A made up word. So the reason we are here in this godforsaken lava pit is a nonsense word that means literally nothing. So we are here for nothing. Thank you for the clarification. Whatever would I have done without you?”

It was Dave’s turn to sigh, although he did so quite overdramatically, and it was all Rose could do not to strangle him with the pure dark energy she could feel coming out of her. She was not usually so easy to work up, but the combination of desperate overheating and raw frustration gnawed at her frayed nerves.

“Shalque is a rare type of grist, Mrs. Know-It-All prissypanties. The creatures that drop it are so fucking hard to track it’s not even a joke. I’m actually surprised you didn’t know that already with all the useless shit you’ve managed to alchemize and all the crappy combinations you’ve gone through. Seriously—how many times can you put knitting, cat plushies and a fucking squiddle together and make something different but equally as revolting?”

“Twelve-hundred and six, but who’s counting?”

He did turn to face her at that, but it was more like a head turn than his full attention, “See? That’s what I’m talking about here! Where are we even going to put all that shit? Our space is already more cramped than being buried under twenty pounds of glistening ass.”

Rose smirked at this turn of the conversation, not noticing the movement in her peripherals, “And we are all aware of how much you love being under an undulating pile of cushioned doll behinds.” Her sadistic smile only grew wider as the blond boy paled from behind his shades. The odd black-against-paste look only washed him out even more. An expression of abject horror was on his face as he no doubt relived the experience.

“Ice queen,” he accused, grimacing, “That shit is not cool. You know how those freakish plush demons get to me! That’s so sick…why’d you have to use the word ‘undulating’? Aww, shit…” And as the witch-girl was gloating over her victory, the movements she’d previously overlooked caught her attention. The mega-imp had spotted them and was now charging across the pools of molten metal and lava towards them.

“Dave!” she cried out, her hands reaching to her pocket for her needle-wands, “Incoming.”

He jumped up almost instantly, drawing his broken sword at lightning speed and darting off to meet the creature halfway, Rose hot on his heels. His ½ sword kind specibus met the creature’s enormous calf head on—because while Rose had been enjoying a good snark session with her colorful companion, she had completely missed the fact that the carapace they had been stalking was a giant of unequivocal proportions. Dave looked like an ant next to it.

Narrowing her eyes (and positioned just behind him and to the left), the Seer unlocked the dark energy she sometimes called upon and, clenching both needlewands in her hands, thrust them in the direction of the hulking imp. Purple lightning shot from their tips towards the creature, meeting its inky flesh with a searing hiss. The megalith howled.  
Smirking darkly, Rose began to charge up another bolt, “Goddammit Rose, I got this!” Dave yelled, cutting her off. Her magenta eyes narrowed in distaste.

“Don’t be a fool, your attacks are barely glancing him!” The look he sent her was pure venom, but the witch girl knew her words were true. The half blade that the Knight had christened the ‘badassiest tool since god created the toaster’, was proving to be rather useless against the tough carapace hide. Whereas the smaller imps had posed it no more of a problem than butter—against a larger opponent his magnificent blade was as useless as what Dave referred to as the Artifact ‘Sord’, but was actually only a cardboard cutout of a shitty sword.

Ignoring her, Dave ceased hacking at the creature’s legs and began running towards a small protrusion in the wall. In an action that was both reckless and incredibly agile, he launched himself off the ground and ricocheted off the ledge, wielding his broken blade above his head in an arc. His blow landed square in the megalith’s face, and the metal carved a deep line through one of its eyes. The creature howled in pain, and, Rose suspected, in outrage. Anyone would be upset if they had a line gouged into their face like that. In retaliation one of the inky-black arms barreled down into Dave, who attempted to dodge. He failed.

Rose grit her teeth, “Have some sense of self preservation!” she growled out and readied her wands for another strike.

“Well lookie here, folks,” he sneered, dodging another blow, “I should avoid taking a smack down from this here brawny beast,” another swing—blond hair whipping as Dave narrowly avoided it, “Sage advice, really, Lalonde.”

The witch girl ignored the impulse to roll her eyes at Dave’s moronic babbling. Purple bolts of lightning once again struck the carapace, raining down and trapping him within their confines, screams of pain echoing the dank landscape. Grey energy began to surround Rose as she struggled to maintain the energy flow, effectively caging the beast.

“What the hell are you waiting for, Strider?” she called, exhaustion already beginning to set into her voice.

“Keep your panties on, I’m working on it!” Dave had begun executing another bold maneuver, taking a running leap to scale up the length of the creature in order to meet it face to face. For a split second, the inky eyes of the creature met Dave’s crimson and then it was all over. The ½ blade was crammed deep into the monster’s neck, and in an instant it dissolved—turning into the hard-earned grist the Knight had been after.

He landed on his feet with a soft flourish, and Rose couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his dramatic gesture. She finally released the energy field she had been holding up and took a deep breath. Dave adjusted his shades dispassionately and rubbed a casual hand over his arm.

An eyebrow raise later, and the witch girl was certain that the other blond had little intention of picking up the grist he had wanted so badly. She heaved a little sigh and began collecting it herself. It struck her as rather odd that the functions of the game continued to work despite their SBURB session being a complete dud. The alchemiter, the sendificator, grist—all of it was still present and in fully functioning condition. At least it served to keep the two of them from complete boredom for all these years. It pained Rose to admit it, but she would have gone mad long ago were it not for her companion. Pain in the ass that he may be, company was company. And if she was being completely honest, the two of them had grown rather close in the three years they had been captive together.

He watched her from behind his aviators as she collected the grist, and his thoughts must have been similar to hers, “Thanks, Lalonde,” he muttered almost inaudibly.

Rose smirked, “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.”


	3. Twice Weekly, If Possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose gets her way (again), and a plan for a coup is hatched.

“So what exactly is this shindig?” Dave questioned loftily from where he sat cross-legged on the floor. His sister was directly across from him in a similar fashion, hands drawn together in her lap and an expression of calm interest on her pale face. The gravity with which her violet eyes gazed at him was unnerving.

“I believe this is what our troll companions would refer to as a ‘feelings jam’,” she stated calmly, “And I would appreciate it if we could try and remain as serious as possible throughout this exercise.”

The only reaction she received was the blank stare of black shades, “Oh, hell yes. We are going to do this, Rose. We are going to exercise the shit outta this. You are the all-seeing ringmaster equestrian and I’ll be the little pony scrambling from the lick of your acrimonious cattle prod of an exercise. Let’s fucking do this.”

“The outstanding phallic imagery of the cattle prod aside, there are many ways that phrase could be interpreted. Perhaps you feel that, in asking you to participate in a shared moment of camaraderie, I am forcing you into some twisted sexual fantasy of mine? Or possibly you are projecting one of your own fantasies? Nevertheless, I asked that we remain on topic here.” Rose cleared her throat judiciously, “Unless, of course, you wish to dwell on these supposed fantasies of yours…?” There was something about the blond girl in front of him that frustrated Dave beyond belief. She could take his words, thoughts and actions and make them out to be something so entirely different that he was left wondering if she did it merely to get to him or if she honestly believed the shit she spouted. Dave’s skin crawled with something he couldn’t identify.

“Fucking hell, Rose,” he muttered, “Just get on with it already. I’ve got important matters to attend to when you finally let me outta this hell hole.”

A sneer marred her otherwise serene face, “Playing ‘Can Town’ with the mayor does not equate to an important endeavor. Your asinine childishness can wait.”

God. This was going to take forever, wasn’t it?

Letting out a long and highly dramatized sigh, the coolkid shifted a bit and raised his eyebrows over his glasses as if to say, ‘I’m waiting’.

“All right,” Rose began, “As I stated before, I feel like we should meet like this once or twice a week in order to set the record straight about the events that took place in the alternate timeline. We both seem to be getting the dreams now that we have reached the same age that our alternate selves were when they ceased to exist, and I believe that it would be beneficial for both of us to discuss these matters calmly and rationally together in order to come to terms with them.” Dave groaned.

“I’m already at terms with it. Davesprite and you from another life lived for three years on my kickass Skaia planet and did some stuff. Beasts were slain, grist collected and random shit made—all to no end and it was pretty much pointless anyway, but hey! So is most of this game, so what the hell. The end.”

Too late, Dave realized that his tone was a bit more aggressive than he’d intended it to be, and he knew instinctively that that one mistake would cause a slough of overactive analyses from his overbearing sister. In truth, he was a bit edgy about having a feelings jam with Rose—particularly on the subject of their shared dreams. The blond boy would much rather just forget the whole sorry mess had ever happened. But knowing the witch girl, this was far from over.

True to his prediction, Rose raised an eyebrow, “Your reluctance to speak on this subject implies that it is a sore topic for you. This only reinforces my assertions that we should counsel one another.”

“Counsel one another.” Dave’s tone was drier than the Sahara desert.

“Yes, in a way. Essentially I want us to discuss what happens in our dreams. Twice a week, if possible.”

“No. No—not possible. How about we discuss them never? Or when we actually reach whatever bogus destination we’re hurtling towards on this hunk of useless rock, whichever comes sooner. I am all about not ever discussing them.”

“We will be quite busy when we reach our destination, Dave. Be reasonable.” How frustrating it was, that every time Rose opened her mouth more and more sense came out. Couldn’t she see that he was stalling? Trying to avoid this mortifying topic that neither of them truly wanted to delve into?

“No.” That seemed like a perfectly passable response at this point.

The Seer frowned, “Of course we don’t have to discuss the parts that may hurt one another’s sense of propriety, although it certainly wouldn’t hurt to if you ever came to your senses.”

“The only sense I’m lacking is the one where talking about sex with my sister is a perfectly reasonable thing to do. So I’ll have to go with hell no to the degree of never.” Dave attempted to give an air of finality to his words, like Rose so often did, in order to get the message through her overly thick skull. This topic was beginning to drag on. But then again, with them, things always did.

“It’s entirely up to you, of course,” she assured, “ I’m just pleased that you have decided to join me in this effort.”

There was something horrifically hilarious about this moment, and it was all Dave could do not to break his stoicism and laugh harder than he could remember having done in a long time. Here they were—in his room on the meteor (because he refused to go into hers) sitting across from one another on the floor, about to discuss topics that Dave would rather die before ever even thinking about, and he was still going to go through with it. Why, he had no clue. He only knew that his sister Rose had a way about her that made it hard to refuse her almost anything. She alone could get him to do this shit.

He sort of hated her for it.

“You’ll be unlocking the door once we’re done here?” he asked.

Her razor-sharp smile have him no comfort, “Of course.”

\------------------------------------------------------ 

“Hey,” Rose looked up from her needles to where Dave had called out to her. She mentally began to assess his current manner of business. He was standing by the Alchemiter—creating stuff then. Useless, worthless pieces of crap, probably. The Seer sighed and raised an eyebrow.

“I need your strawberry chapstick,” was his response. Really, this boy baffled her to no end. Most of the time Rose found herself utterly unable to comprehend his motives—which was very unlike her. It brought unmitigated amounts of irritation.

She set her knitting into her lap, “Even if my chapstick could survive this unbearable heat, which it could not, I doubt it would be able to do so for as many weeks as we’ve been here. It was by chance that it was in my pocket when we entered SBURB in the first place—how you remembered I even had it is beyond me.”

“Look—Rose. Do you maybe have the capchalogue card of it or something? This is some serious life or death, here.”

“Did I not just say it had been in my pocket? I never capchalogued it. Perhaps it fell out near the ruins of your old house when I came through the portal? Regardless, I haven’t seen it in ages.” Her voice took on a dry tone, “What could you possibly need chapstick for that is so important, anyway? How can a tube of strawberry flavored petroleum-based lubricant be of such vital importance that you would regard it as life or death?”

The blond coolkid resisted the urge to gag at her phrasing, “First off, never refer to chapstick like that again—it’s just wrong. And secondly, I am sick and fucking tired of eating these goddamned gushers every day. Your lippy stick is the only other vaguely food-themed item around here. I was trying to make us something else to eat. Fuck, Rose. A few months ago I thought nothing but orange soda and candy would make this like a fairy fantasy land, but if I see another gusher packet, so help me…” His irritation is one Rose shared herself. It was a miracle that they hadn’t starved to death the first few days stranded on the LOHAC. Dave’s old apartment had almost instantly become overrun by imp creatures. For some reason it had become a nexus point of sorts for them—even at the advanced level the two kids had managed to reach, there were too many imps there to even consider retaking it and settling there. They had created a makeshift shelter some yards away in the interim.

So far all that they had managed to alchemize in the way of food had been some of John’s blue ectoblast gushers—and even then that was only due to Dave being able to hack into John’s game mainframe from before he had died. They now had access to all of the things he had managed to alchemize—which honestly wasn’t that much. And most of what he created was just piles of shit.

Not that that had stopped Dave from creating one of each item to commemorate their fallen friend. There was a whole corner dedicated to Egbertian memorabilia. For some reason Dave had been unable to do the same to Jade’s mainframe. Whether that was because it had been destroyed, or that she had just been more technologically sound, Dave wasn’t sure. Regardless, Miss gardenGnostic’s fresh fruit and veggies were lost to them both forever. It was the truest shame.

“There has got to be something else edible on this planet, David. There is no way that my chapstick is the last possible food-related item here,” Rose reasoned with him. Frankly his desperate eyes (or what she could see through his aviators) were unnerving her. Sure, she wanted some real food as well after who knows how long with just the chalky blue gushers to keep her going, but it was odd to see the normally too-cool Dave Strider in a near panic over something non-smuppet related. Not that Rose didn’t enjoy watching him squirm—just that she prefered it to be on her terms.

“There is,” he was solemn, his shoulders slumping a bit where he stood, “In the ruins.”

Rose allowed her fingers to trail through the knitting in her lap as she gave thought to his answer, gazing out over the lava filled landscape, “In your house, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“You think it’s time to retake your old apartment?”

Dave made his way over to her with agility, hopping over bits of broken scrap and a few plush kittens to stand not three feet away from Rose. She wondered briefly if the blond boy thought he was in some sort of movie or something, with the way he was posing dramatically. Perhaps he was always this pointlessly histrionic. “That was always the plan. I just think maybe we’ve killed enough shit by now to deserve a better house and some nicer digs,” he urged.

“I hardly think the game takes our efforts into account as such, but I concur about the apartment. We need some other form of food aside from these despicable gushers of John’s, God rest his soul.”

There was a small pause, and although Dave hurried in with a “Yeah,” it was enough for Rose to question his motives.

“You do have some form of food in there, yes? Anything that might even relate to food so that we can capchalogue it and finally create something to consume that is less of a chalky neon consistency and more like actual nourishment?”

Blond eyebrows furrowed on his face in confusion, “What about your unsuspecting tube of lip balm, just waiting to be snatch-grabbed the fuck outta there? The tube of unknown pleasures. It has a nice ring to it.” His tone turned to glee, “Then we use that stuff to make the real deal. I can practically taste the strawberry juice dripping from my fingers like blood on a vampire. I am so stoked for this you don’t even know.”

Yet another facet of the mystery that was Dave Strider—Rose was more surprised at the fact that she was surprised. Dave? Keep actual food at his apartment? Blasphemy in its truest form. She felt she honestly should have known better. And to think…their lives depended on a tube of strawberry chapstick that may or may not be in his disaster zone of an old home after having sat who knows how long next to a pit of boiling lava. “I’m not even sure that you can make strawberries from just a capchalogue card of a tube of lip balm, to be quite frank. And if there’s no other edible item—semi or otherwise—in your house, I’m not convinced we should risk it. Did you really keep no food at your place of residence?” It was a desperate last bid.

“Flat soda and edible underwear.”

For a moment it was so quiet you could almost hear the metaphorical shit hit the metaphorical fan.

“That lip balm better fucking be there, Dave,” Her voice was sickly sweet, “And despite the fact that you have little to no control over it, if that tube is not there, or we can’t find it, I will kill you Dave Strider. And then I will bring you back just to force you to eat a pair of gusher-flavored edible panties while I watch.”

Unbidden, the blond boy’s mind conjured up an image of himself tearing a pair of the edible underwear off of Rose, lick by languid lick. His face scrunched up in disgust, “Sick,” he muttered, ignoring the odd electric sensation that ran up his spine.

Tossing her abandoned knitting to the side, Rose stood up rather violently and narrowed her eyes, “Couldn’t you have anticipated something like this? Even to the tiniest degree?” her tone was accusatory, “Having actual food at one’s house is not something uncommon, Mr. Strider. In fact, some may go as far as to say that it is entirely commonplace! Scratch that—it is more than commonplace, it is expected. People are expected to keep food at their house for emergency situations such as this one. Or, you know…eating.”

“Not really,” was his nonchalant reply. He turned away from her and began gathering his equipment together, holding his ½ sword in the air to catch the light before sheathing it in his belt strap. The Knight supposed he could have just capchalogued it, but where was the fun in that? Plus, this way he felt he looked at least one hundred and twenty-two percent more badass. That had to count for something, right? Dave ignored the scorn on Rose’s face.

After securing his weapons (at least two backups were necessary—1/2 swords had a tendency to break) and making sure he had his newly crafted Timetables safely capchalogued, the blonde boy turned to his companion, “So are you in or out? Cause I don’t have time to chit chat when there’s monster ass to be kicking, Rose, dear.”

“Condescension doesn’t suit you.” Her reply was mocking, but Rose began preparing herself to go nonetheless. If Dave was going to get himself killed, she might as well go with him. After all, what else was there to live for anymore if not each other? She’d have gone insane long ago if not for his company, so why not go down together? At least with the two of them they stood a fighting chance. 

“Then let’s get the shiz niggets outta here.”

\----------------------------------------------- 

If Dave had to spend one more minute in his ectosib’s presence he wasn’t sure he could be held responsible for what would happen. She was driving him nuts—not that that was different from normal.

They were seated on ginormous pillows in the center of his respite-block of a shitty grey room, and even if the blond boy would normally be thrilled with acting like some sort of Indian prince, the topic of discussion and the overbearing nature of his companion were ruining it for him.

“Seriously, weren’t you the one flipping your shit about all this a few days ago? Now you want me to get all chatty Kathy ‘bout us doing the nasty in some alternate reality?”  
Those lips. They would not stop haunting him—constantly bearing disapproving sneers, smug half-smiles and the exasperated pursing thing that they were doing now. “I feel it would be conducive to our discussion, yes.”

“Hmm,” he murmured sarcastically, “Let me think about that one.”

Dave set his features to look pensive, concentrating on trying to look at the air in front of him. There was no way in hell he was taking this exercise seriously, so he was forced to find something else to concentrate on. Seeing as air isn’t exactly tangible, and that the coolkid was having a pretty hard time keeping a focal point, he was almost certain that he was exuding enough concentration to fool Rose with his charade.

Rose was no fool.

“ Dave—“ she started, but he cut her off.

“Still thinking.”

“Well when did you plan on finishing that utterly exhausting thought?”

He mimed confusion, biting his lower lip, “When is this asteroid set to crash, again?”

“This is actually rather serious, you know.” Her consternation would have been almost cute, if it hadn’t been instantly replaced by a sly smirk. “Well then. If we aren’t going to be talking, I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I reviewed the last hundred pages or so of my latest writing project. It’s a rather fascinating read—the study of human nature and how it relates to and intersects with mundane activities and proclivities. I find I am better able to edit my work while reading it aloud, if you would be so kind as to listen.”

“Oh, hell no,” Dave asserted, “I am not doing that.”

He knew his time was up when her only response was one of eager joy, “So you’ll participate, then?” she exclaimed, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am, though I will ask for a rain check on that verbal editing. It’s quite the thrill—I’m sure you’ll enjoy it immensely.”

“Like a bullet to the frontal lobe,” he muttered under his breath.

The witch girl paid him no mind, “So let’s begin, shall we?” She set her laptop onto the floor beside her, clearly forgoing her itchy urge to document the entire conversation in her research journals. Unless she had cameras and sound transmitters somewhere. That was always a possibility.

Dave surveyed his bedroom from behind his shades. Everything seemed normal, but then again Rose was too smart to be caught that quickly. Her dedication and finesse when it came to manipulation and information gathering were rather formidable, he had to admit. The coolkid would even go as far as to say that he admired his sister’s abilities. When she wasn’t using them against him, that is. The brutal way she could tear at a person’s insecurities and darkest secrets and wrap them around her little finger—it was dangerous, and honestly a little sexy.

The plush cover of the pillow beneath Dave was setting him on edge and he clenched his fists to avoid squirming. It was too damn soft. Soft things were his Kryptonite, like he was starring in his own shitty take of a Superman film—they never used the same guy in any of them anyway. Soft things made him remember hours of languishing on his bed, before this whole SBURB mess, and spending all night pestering John, and letting the naïve boy in more than he’d intended. Soft things were like when he’d curled up against his brother’s side when he was eight, hurt over some dumb comment online and trying to hide the angry tears that threatened to fall. 

Soft things were in his dreams, where Rose was a hell of a lot more than his sister. More than a friend. There she was everything that had encompassed hope and happiness. She was still a goddamn pain in the ass, but it was more than just an annoyance and Dave was sick and tired of these dreams and he was sick of soft.

“Dave?” he heard her ask. The interruption jarred him back to the present and he realized he’d been lost in thought.

His tone was hard, “I’m not talking, Rose. Give it the fuck up, already. Not on that subject anyway.”

And again with the pursed lips. The blond teen wasn’t sure what to make of her blank expression, but he decided it didn’t really matter. Rose would do what Rose wanted. There was no stopping that. He continued.

“If you want to know my most recent dream, then sure, fine, whatever. Just quit it with the prying shit.” His sister nodded her head in acquiescence and gave him an expecting look. Dave took that as a cue to continue, averting his gaze, “Look, it’s not much. Bunch of confusing jumbles, no sense of a timeline—it’s like the Knight of Time’s nightmare, dig? A four-year-old playing Jenga could have stacked this shit better. But yeah.

“We were fighting those imp things. I don’t know…lots of them. They were surrounding us. It was…well, the phrase ‘insane fucking odds’ comes to mind. And we just fought them off. You with your freaky magic things and me with my badassery at wielding a sword. And then they were gone. Winner, winner, chicken dinner and the losers running for the hills. The end.”

He looked back at her and almost groaned when he saw Rose diligently typing away on her previously-discarded laptop. So this was another entry in her psychoblog, huh? Dave couldn’t honestly say he was surprised. 

Rose finished typing and looked at him appraisingly, “I remember one such incident. Unbeatable odds, being surrounded. I don’t think you told the whole story, however. I remember a lot more happening than just that.”

“I skipped the boring parts.”

She smirked, “The parts that weren’t quite flattering to your ego, you mean. No need to posture for my sake, dear brother. I was there, remember.”

“No, I honestly don’t. Some dumbfuck dream sequence and suddenly it’s my life personified? No dice.” Dave tried desperately not to admire the way her violet eyes lit up with the challenge. It set him off guard, makings his palms itch and urging him to fight with her—to bring that spark flaring out even more. The fact that he noticed at all made the young teen feel ill with unease.

“Very well,” Rose amended. She typed a few more sentences onto her laptop before closing it with a definitive snap. “I believe we are done here.” Her gaze seemed to pierce Dave even through his tinted shades, and not for the first time he wondered if she could see through them. Perhaps her ways of reading him did not need eye contact.

As if in tribute to his own cleverness, Dave commented, “I thought this was a mutual double reacharound? All that beneficial sharing and feelings jam propaganda and you’re not even gonna dish out?” Dave was sure he had her pinned. There was something here that she didn’t want to reveal to him—something that made her so uncomfortable she felt she had to hide it. And now here he was, the impeccable Dave Strider, besting the broad who thought she couldn’t be bested. He almost wanted to smirk in triumph.

Rose’s answering smile made his blood run cold. She was already at the door, poised to exit, half-turned to answer his desperate accusation.

“I would love to discuss my dream with you, David, but I’m afraid you’ve vetoed any topics that violate your sensibilities.” And, with a smirk, she was gone.

And fuck, Lalonde, if he didn’t find himself struggling back a heavy blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this! I realize that the first chapter of this fic is a bit weak, but I'm liking each chapter more and more as I go on.


	4. Chapter 4: A Very Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which may bad ideas are acted upon and Can Town is badass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Or anyone who is reading this, lol. I apologise for the wait, if indeed you were waiting. All I can say is that the time sped by and I had absolutely no idea how to get this silly brain-child from my head onto paper. But a couple of months and a few good songs later, and here we are! I hope that this fic is starting to get better. To be honest I did not expect to actually write this fic, so I feel like I didn't expound upon the beginning as much as I should have. Perhaps later I will fix it up, when the story is finished. I will, however, be fixing up the chapter ordering soon. The first three chapters are actually supposed to be one. Sigh...
> 
> As always, I would appreciate feedback. I'm not fishing for compliments, I swear! I just have no idea what my audience appreciates and what they don't, and I would very much like to. :]

Chapter 4: A Really Bad Idea

 

"So, you know that moment when you realize your life sucks? Like one second everything's chill and you're grand slammin' on the awesome train ready to kick ass, but then suddenly the train slams into a hundred-ton pile of horseshit and you fall in? And that shit is damn near impossible to get out." Dave wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting, but having the Mayor stare blankly at him was probably a reasonable one to expect, given the circumstances. The carapace wasn't known for his communicative abilities—it was probably one of the reasons that he and Dave got along so well.

The Mayor's head cocked to the side, and he reached up a clawed hand to scratch the side of his face in confusion. The stripe of skin that was visible barely stood out against the now completely ragged bedsheets he wore. The blond teen wouldn't be surprised if those sheets had started to meld into the poor guy's skin and become a part of him, for all that the Mayor refused to take them off. Three years and counting plus who knew how long before that?

Ignoring his friend's confusion, Dave continued, "Mayor, you know that you are my best bro, okay? Like, I love you man. You have the best ideas. The best. Remaking Can Town? Best fucking idea ever. Never had as much fun as I did in Can Town. For a mute, mummified alien bro you have some wicked awesome. But I get the feeling that you're not really feeling me here. Like, maybe I should act it out, or draw it with chalk so you can get what I'm sayin'."

That said, Dave reached out a hand for the chalk that lay on the ground nearby and began doodling a train about to collide with a pile of brown goo. For good measure, he drew a squirrel on top of the train—it was close enough to the 'squirrel zone' in Can Town to warrant such measures. The Mayor took this new addition in stride, coming around behind Dave and leaning in to get a better view of the drawing.

Noticing that his friend had gained a new interest in what he was saying, the coolkid relinquished a stick of red chalk to the Mayor and watched as the carapace began his own doodle. He hoped that maybe his little dark friend could shed some light on the matters at hand. Who knew? Perhaps drawings were how the carapace people communicated—Fuck knows he tried everything else.

A few minutes later had the squirrel—and the train—roasting above a giant fire with blue logs.

Ah, well, Dave thought to himself, you can't expect everything.

He resumed his casual doodling, now arming the squirrel with a banana sword and a pink dress, "I'm not even sure what she wants with me, bro. Like, why keep pestering me about this shiz?" The train began running along a rainbow track, "She was the one who was all freakin out about this before. 'What were we thinking, David' she says…Now she wants to pick my brain apart for some Freudian, Jungian shit." The Mayor winced at Dave's high-pitched mocking tone, "Sometimes I wonder where the blood ties kick in. Like, who in the hell ever thought me and her related was a good thing? If anything they just set me up to be in misery till I keel over."

That statement made him pause. The conversation, one-sided though it was, was starting to veer in a direction that the blond coolkid would rather leave untouched. Dave knew he hated being Rose's brother, but he wasn't sure anymore if it was because he wanted to spend less time with her or more.

"Know what, Mayor? Fuck this," he muttered. The Mayor gave him an affronted look and reached out to tug the chalk out of Dave's hands, waving his own purple stick wildly in the process. Dave lunged to avoid being tackled by the angry carapace and landed face-first on their drawing, which now sported a unicorn-cat-thing that was eating a lollypop. The message was clear: you don't talk shit about Can Town. "Hey, Mayo-bro, chill out, okay? I was talking about the thing with Rose, not Can Town. Can Town is badass!"

The carapace seemed to take his words to heart, pausing before giving up on tugging the chalk from the teen's hands. Instead he allowed the boy to roll over, leaned in and began tapping one of his claws on the plastic lenses of Dave's shades.

Dave, feeling generous for having accidentally insulted Can Town, allowed the invasive action for a few seconds before grabbing his friend's arm and shoving it away from his face.

"Yeah, no," he stated, "Nobody touches the shades, okay?" The Mayor had already moved on, licking the stick of purple chalk like it was a grape popsicle. Dave sighed. "Glad we got all that cleared up, buddy. I feel a whole lot better now."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours into their journey, Rose and Dave ran into something they never expected to see—mountains.

That is, if you could call the ginormous half-molten rock, half metal obstructions 'mountains'. The word did not really seem to fit—there were no trees or rocks or dirt of any kind (unsurprising on a planet such as the one they were on), and no matter how either of them looked at it, the way was sufficiently blocked. It was not possible to walk on overheated rock, after all.

Perched on a floating plate of ground, they paused for a moment and surveyed the scene before them.

"It seems as if we have run into a bit of a roadblock, Dave," Rose commented pleasantly. It was as if she were commenting on how lovely the weather was, or the color of his tie, were he wearing one.

This did not bode well.

"I would say that was pretty freakin obvious. Can't miss the hulking shadow for miles around."

Rose turned to look at him, eyebrow raised, "That merely begs the question of why we were unaware of its presence until now, wouldn't you say?" Her lips thinned, "I suppose my excuse would be that I was following you, because heaven forbid you actually know the way to your own apartment!"

The coolkid grit his teeth at her snide remark, "Cool your freakin jets, Rose dearest, it's not as if this is central Houston, alright? It's been like two years since we went to the place. Maybe these mountain things grew here since then."

Typical goddamn Dave. He would sooner assume that mountains grew overnight than admit he didn't know where he was going. Rose was almost beside herself, though she made efforts to maintain her dignified façade. There was no way she wanted to trek all the way back to their base and try a different direction—god! Why did this stupid planet have to be so hot?

"Mountains do not just spring up out of nowhere, even in SBURB," she growled, "We went the wrong way! Just admit it so we can turn back and get ourselves back on the right track before I melt."

"No."

Was that a breeze Rose felt? Or was it just her frustration finally cresting and swimming over her in a rush?

A heavy, creaking sort of groan resonated from the metal face of the mountainous structure. Flecks of molten rock spewed out of their preset streams and hissed down the much cooler rock face that neither kid had seen before. On one side of the teeming mountainside was a narrow rim of cooled rock—a path up the cliff face that seemed to have formed from excess lava becoming trapped on the surface and cooling. It was just the right width for two people, beginning low to the ground and ending up almost as tall as the structure itself.

Dave was mesmerized, "I have an idea." The deep glow of the superheated liquid flowing around them reflected eerily off the lenses of his shades. He looked demonic.

Wary, the witch girl gently maneuvered their floating plate up closer to the cliff face. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to enjoy what you have to say?"

"Gee, I dunno, Rose. Sounds like a personal problem." Their makeshift boat neared the base of the cliff.

"Have I ever told you how utterly thrilling it is to be stuck here on this goddamn planet with you?"

Dave smirked, "All the damn time."

Even being facetious was losing its allure, such was the depth of Rose's frustration. How had she ever fancied they would be a good match? The idea seemed ridiculous now.

Their floating plate made contact against the structure's base with a grinding thud. Both teens quickly absconded, stretching a daring leap across lava and landing on the relatively cool, flat rock structure that Dave seemed enthralled with. Landing with ease, their eyes met for a brief moment before focusing ahead of them, beginning the long trek upwards.

The way was steady enough, being relatively flat and not so hot as most of the rest of the planet (save for the acrid drops of corrosive lava that spit out at them on occasion, but they were easy enough to dodge). The only real problem was the rate of incline. Rose conjectured that they would be using twice as much energy to continue on than normal, and would therefore tire out at an unreasonably rapid rate. From the look of it, it was even possible that they would have to resort to climbing parts of the path; for all that it was too steep to climb.

All of this, just for Dave to prove a point. Rose let out a groan.

They began their walk in silence. It was only minutes before Dave started in:

"These cliffs are too damn steep, Rose. It's downright unacceptable."

Rose rolled her eyes, holding back a scoff, "They're cliffs, David. I'm not sure what else you were expecting." They continued their ascent, Rose in the lead, with Dave behind her reaching out for a handhold every now and then to take an over-exaggerated breath.

"Since when did the word 'cliff' equate to some bizarre death-trap designed to desecrate giraneous lebellus of the brain flow eqimanteral?"

She didn't spare him a backwards glance, "None of those words make any sort of sense, so I'm going to hypothesize that you are simply trying to sound more learned than you really are." She'd put emphasis on the last syllable of 'learned', and for some inexplicable reason this pissed him off.

He shot her a glare, "My mind is not in neural symbiosis, Rose."

"At least that one was marginally decipherable. Congratulations, you've gained another pointless SBURB level. Instead of 'Useless Codswallop', you are now a 'Minor League Water-boy'." Rose's tone was drier than the desert—she was certain that even Dave would catch on.

"You're not as clever as you think you are. I reached that diddly level like three months ago. I am now a 'B Movie Extra', after scrambling like an I-don't-even-know to get past 'Chuck Norris' Footstool'." Dave groaned, leaning against another handhold for a rest, "It's like they designed that level to be goddamn impossible to pass."

Rose's eyebrows rose in amusement, but commented no further. They sunk into silence once more.

The two were getting higher and higher up the side of the mountain now, settled securely on the winding narrow path, and the view was certainly spectacular. Rose could see why Dave had wanted so desperately to come up here—it was beautiful, yes. But more importantly…they could see all around them for miles. When they finally reached the top of the mountain-like structure there was no doubt in her mind that they would be able to see Dave's apartment and finally know which direction they needed to go. All in all it was a sound plan.

Rose was almost proud, despite herself.

He had, of course, noticed her look of almost-admiration and smirked, "When are you going to finally get it, Rose? I'm the Knight-of-fucking-Time. I don't do shit that isn't necessary."

Her glance of acknowledgement was skeptical, "Edible panties," was her reply.

They were almost to the top now. "Hey! That shit was my Bro's, okay? It was for some stupid puppet show or something that he was doing this one time. The website sold them in bulk, but he only needed a few pairs so we ended up having that god-awful box of those things around for the longest time." Dave gave a small chuckle, "It was totally ridiculous."

Rose didn't quite know what to say, so she continued up the steep path, securing her last foothold before finally making it to the top and collapsing in a pile to regain her breath. It really had been a daunting climb.

For all of his complaining, Dave was in much better shape than she was after climbing this monster of a mountain. It had taken them half a day at least to reach the peak, but they had finally done it. And there, in the far distance, the two could make out the dark outline of Dave's old apartment. A little more than two years ago since he had set eyes on the thing and there it was—still standing. Dave was more than a little surprised that it hadn't melted in the heat, or sunk into the lava. The steel beams supporting the structure were little more than a joke.

"Well," he began, still gazing out over the horizon, "There it is. I told you we were going the right way."

Rose scoffed, "It's in the totally opposite direction."

"Semantics."

"I don't think that word means what you think it means."

Dave joined her on the ground, cross-legged against the finally flat surface they were resting on. "Really?" he asked, "Because I thought it meant 'shut up, I'm right and you're wrong'. That's what it always means when you use it."

"Hmm. That's because I'm always right."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four sessions. Four goddamn, godawful sessions with this man-eating she-beast and Dave was ready to claw out his ears and slowly bleed to death before coming to a fifth. He just would have no more of it.

Rose was…well, she was Rose. Which meant that she could never be anything but passive aggressive and aggravatingly superior on her good days, let alone the ones where she was feeling particularly vindictive. Dave Strider may be her brother by blood, but he was utterly clueless as to how she ticked. It was a woman thing, he guessed.

Although…Jade was also a woman, and she was easy enough to understand. Dave supposed that was due to the overwhelming amounts of Egbert she had in her. That sweet, almost derpy quality that she and John had about them was rather endearing. In fact, there had been a time when Dave had considered focusing his attentions on Jade in a romantic way.

What had followed had been some of the most embarrassing moments of his life, and the teen was just glad that he would never have to relive them. With his awesome time powers he undoubtedly could, but there was nothing but shame to be had in the pick-up lines of his twelve-year-old self, and no sane person would ever want to live through it twice. Such gems as "my green-thumbed lusterlily" and "your glistening obsidian mane" were lost to this universe (and the next!) forever. And with good reason.

Nevertheless, the overwhelming conclusion at the end of the shitfaced clusterfuck of awkward, had been that the love between them was the love of siblings and nothing more. She and Dave had agreed on that together, and honestly he had felt better afterwards. Thinking about Jade in any sexual way had felt completely unnatural.

How fucking ironic. 

The sound of long fingers going clickity-clack against a keyboard—a sound which had been the background music to this sorry farce of a session for nearly thirty minutes now—came to a sudden halt. It was the kind of insignificant absence of sound that was magnified one-hundred fold due to the fact that it had been going on for so long that Dave couldn't help but notice it when it stopped.

Rose looked up from her computer screen, eyes narrowed in concentration. She seemed to be trying to think of what to write next, although for the life of him, the blond teen couldn't remember a time when she'd been without a thing to say. It was surely a rare occurrence.

"Are you writing in your psychoblog?" he asked, no longer able to stomach the silence. It had nothing to do with the fact that Rose looked unbearably cute with her face scrunched up in thought. None at all.

Her dark eyes fluttered to meet his, "My what?"

"Your psychoblog. You know—where you write all the nosy, prying assumptions you make about everyone's business but your own? That thing."

A look of mock surprise and a glance down at the computer on her lap, "Ohhh," she murmured in understanding, "You're referring to my dream diary. Wouldn't want you to get your hands on any of this material, would you? Might make the whole world just a bit too real for you, wouldn't it Dave?"

Of course it was going to be like this. The Knight of Time cursed himself for not staying silent while he had had the chance. Now he was going to have to rehash all this old shit out with her, and it was getting old. Perhaps it was time to just get it all over with so they could both just let it go. Or, at least, Dave hoped she would let it go. One could never be sure with his sister.

Uncharacteristically, he spent a few silent moments preparing what he was going to say. Acting before thinking was something Dave was well acquainted with, but he was sixteen now, and older, and wiser and maybe if he said the right thing he could get Rose to leave it all be so he could get on with his life.

He took a deep breath, pointedly ignoring the eyebrow that she raised at the action, "Why…" he began, "Why do you feel like we need to talk about this? Why the lectures? Why the discussion? Why these abominable sessions? What do you want to accomplish by all of this?"

"I've already told you," she argued, "I want to set everything straight so we can know what was real and what's not!"

"But why does any of it have to be real? Setting this godawful story straight is just going to end up with us dwelling on something that should have been left forgotten, all alone on a sinking lava planet, and you know it."

He made sense, far too much sense.

"You don't understand, David," her voice was almost pleading, "It's not that I want to dwell on it, it's just that I feel things…from the dreams. And I know you do too! If we could just work it all out, set it straight, then all of that will dissolve. I'm sure of it."

There was no doubt in his mind that talking out this…thing…with Rose was a Very Bad Idea. Maybe she wasn't wrong exactly, however. Hadn't he said almost the same thing earlier? Maybe it was time to resolve the whole thing—let it go. The only difference was that for Dave, letting go meant leaving it in the past, whereas Rose apparently needed to flesh it all out. Self-preservation is a strong thing, though, and he was far from giving her what she needed at the expense of himself.

Instead he changed the subject, shifting on the floor of her respiteblock from his cross-legged position to lying on his back, "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we'd grown up together?" he asked.

Rose was taken aback, "I…I suppose I have thought about it from time to time," she mused, "Why?"

"I was just picturing it," Rose's ceiling is grey (really, what did he expect?), the dingy color clashing terribly with the soft lavender and fuchsia designs on the walls. "What our family would have been like."

It was quiet for a moment, and Dave was tempted to fall asleep, even in enemy territory. A soft voice interrupted his musings, "You mean with our parents and us, correct? Dirk and Roxy?" They'd only met their young parent-counterparts briefly, and even so it would have been hard to picture the fellow teens as role models and superiors.

"What other family would I have meant?" Dave asked, and then regretted it bitterly. There's a flash of dark red, flames and a feeling of desperate melancholy and then the experience was over before it began. He let out a frustrated groan and covered his face with his hand.

Rose didn't answer or say anything.

He continued, "Sometimes I feel like this whole 'other life' is a puzzle. All these dreams, all these revelations and still I can never see the whole picture." He sat up suddenly and faced her, "Every time I think I know what the everloving fuck is going on, I get thrown a loop! And even then I have no idea what that loop even means! This is what I'm talking about, Rose. All this crap is better off left alone."

She shut her laptop with a soft 'click' and lay it aside, biting her lip, "Maybe you're right," she murmured softly. Her eyes shifted to the side, refusing to meet his, and Dave feels like a douche for upsetting her. And then he felt like a tool for being upset.

The dichotomy was tearing him apart.

"Listen," he started, "I gotta go give John that…thing he asked for earlier, and then I told the Mayor I'd stop by before the sleeping cycle…" He trailed off, but Rose chimed in before the silence grew awkward.

"That's fine, Dave. We're pretty much done here, I think."

Thank god, he thought to himself. "Uh, yeah…later." And then he left, shutting the door behind him.

Rose was left on the floor with her laptop beside her and an empty chest but a too-full heart. The computer was calling to her, begging her to start typing, to relive the memories that have been haunting her, and she was tempted. It's the ultimate mystery—who was she? What did she want? And why did Dave have such significance now that she couldn't get his face out of her head? She'd been lying all this time and no one knew.

There was no psychoblog. There was no diary of her raunchy dreams.

Rose opened the laptop back up and clicked through the loading screen, returning easily to where she'd left off before. She stared blankly at the wall of gibberish before her, but she didn't check the rest of the pages. There was no need. They were all blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. :]


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